Behind My Eyelids Are Islands of Violence
by Discordence
Summary: Magic hates Peter Quince, but he could never hate it back the same way, no matter what it did. He was lucky; someone found a way out of his deadly blizzard. And yet, there was always something wrong beyond that boundary. (Crossposted to AO3) Full title: Behind My Eyelids Are Islands of Violence (Life Has a Hopeful Undertone)


**A/N: Just a character study (well...somewhat of one) of my favorite TOK character. I would go on, but I just love the show and Mr. Quince so much. That's all you need to know.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own "The Other Kingdom". This is merely my take (of sorts) on the past Peter Quince/Petrithon had and that he had to put behind him (the latter said in Ep. 16). The title also comes from "Migraine" by Twenty One Pilots.**

* * *

 _"Petrithon, you are the future king of Athenia, the heir to the throne of light. Be the prince your future subjects deserve. It is what a true king would do."_

To a young Petrithon, it meant anything that fell within excitement, power, and potential romance. Poor younger Oberon would merely be a servant, and any older brother would dream of that.

To the older Petrithon, he'd merely laugh at his own stupidity.

* * *

He was fifteen when he found out his parents' true plan. Well, fifteen in earth years. It wasn't enough that he was the misfit, but he was too much to where there would be utter sabotage to his future, a future that Oberon would be successful in.

Oberon got everything he ever wanted. Affection, attention, and any item he wished for. He even charmed the young light fairy, Titania. Petrithon knew her well; they were best friends...until she muttered something along the lines of ' _I'm in love with Oberon_.'

The friendship ended there.

It wasn't that Petrithon was jealous, no, he only saw Titania as a confidante and as a close friend. He could easily admit she was a sight for sore eyes, but to fall in love with someone as awful and despicable as Oberon? The elder brother would rather be dead.

Unlike his _pure and pristine_ younger brother, Petrithon was more of a "devil". He yearned for attention from his domineering father, rarely had time with his mother, and hated yet envied his younger brother who had so much more entitlement.

The only time he was demon-free was the annual berry-picking done with his family and all of Athenia, but even then he'd be attacked for stunts Oberon claimed was his fault. The Peppercorn/Inkleberry incident was Petrithon's only crime, but being accused of other scandals Oberon himself caused? That was _low_.

But this? Being used as an idol only to be assassinated shortly after? It was a whole new level of low.

Sort of like him, he assumes.

* * *

 _Why do you like the Other Kingdom so much? It's a place filled with horrible, horrible beings. And just listen to our names; Peter and Oliver? They sound ridiculous, just like this family's last name. Quince. Ugh, disgusting. I can't wait for the ninety days to be over._

Petrithon, or Peter as he adopted, let this moan and groan repeat in his head as he slept. It was apparent for the first week or so that it would be all Oberon would talk about behind closed doors.

 _You fell in love with an Other girl?! What is wrong with you? There are prettier girls back in Athenia than over here._

That was enough.

Oberon was one to rant and curse and complain. It was all he did when he didn't get his way. He screamed 'spoiled child' to Petrithon. It was the same with the Others the brothers both knew.

 _Does your younger brother whine like this all the time, Peter?_

He had no problem saying yes, and he had no problem calling Oberon out for his attitude. Of course, it would escalate into physical and verbal fights, to which one was punished and Petrithon didn't care if it was him.

He was always the one in trouble, always the scapegoat. No matter how many good things he'd done, the good was outweighed by the bad.

It wasn't enough. _He_ wasn't enough, and being enough was all he really wanted.

* * *

 _Goodbye, Petrithon. Hello, Peter Quince._

He was free. Peter, his new identity, was free from his past. All the abuse, neglect, and depression he felt as Petrithon was in the past. It wasn't dead, but it was gone. Locked away permanently, or so Peter hoped.

In Athenia, he was Petrithon: the misfit child, the screw-up, and the one who would've had his head blown off. He was the elder son that had no place in the family he came to loathe. In the Other kingdom, he was Peter Quince: friendly, intelligent, and an all-around incredible person. He had the family he longed for, a girlfriend that loves him for _everything_ that he is, and a bright future as an architect.

The latter never sounded so _good._

* * *

"Peter? Are you okay?"

Peter was caught. He knew that he was. All the restless nights he spent pacing around the room he shared with his wife of only a few years caught up to him. There was no use lying to her, all she could ever be was an honesty-seeking missile. Lie to her and you're finished.

"I'm...I'm fine," Peter breathed out, waiting for his wife to figuratively jump on him. "I'm okay, honey, I...I promise."

"No, you're not," Peter cringed as he felt his wife's hands clutch his shoulders. She moved them in a way that eased the tension Peter felt internally. "Peter, baby, what's the matter?"

"It... _They_ came back. They all came back to haunt me, and I...it hurts that it won't leave me alone."

"Peter, you're not with your family anymore. Your parents and Oli... _Oberon_ are in Fairyland-"

" _Athenia_ ," Peter corrected.

"Right," Peter watched his wife's head shake as she sat them both down on the bed. One of her arms was wrapped around Peter's as her other hand scaled his back gently. The man shivered as her fingers traced the faded scars of where his wings were attached. "Anyway, Peter, they're not here. They can't hurt you."

"But what if they hurt you? Or our child?"

"Peter, I've known you since we met in high school. You'd sacrifice yourself as the first line of defense if they laid a finger on our son or daughter. I'm more than capable of taking care of myself, I promise."

"Even with yo-" Peter was cut off with a gentle kiss to his lips before his other half, his better half, pulled away slowly.

"Peter, everything will be fine. Really. You have a family to care for, one that's nothing like the people who ruined you. Me. Our child. We're here for you. We love you. And, baby, I know that you'd be the first person to defend us...because that's how much you care about us."

"...I love you," Peter sighed, a smile on his face. His lips met with his wife's before the two laid down. Warmth was shared between the two, and a smile was plastered onto Peter's face when he woke up in the morning.

* * *

 _Winter is the season of demons_ , Peter recalls, _it claims lives and sucks the joy out of everyone. All they're left with is their inner monster, and monsters love the wintertime_.

No wonder people get lost in a blizzard.

Snow fell gently, and the town Peter grew to love was a place he grew to resent. His wife was missing. Gone. Peter had no idea how she felt or if she was even still alive. He could only watch the snow fall, and it fell slowly. Too slow.

Something was coming.

"Mr. Quince?" Peter heard a nurse ask. He turned and looked up at her emotion-filled face from where he was seated. Something happened, and he could tell that it wasn't good at all.

"Yes?"

"We...have some news. It's news you may not particularly like."

"What happened?"

The words came out in slow-motion. A mind raced, a heart dropped, and a pair of lungs hardened. It was if someone punched Peter in the gut with large brass knuckles. His green eyes sparkled before tears rushed down his cheeks. Fingers clutched the chair's armrests until the knuckles were the color of the snow outside. It was every husband's worst nightmare...every _father's_ worst nightmare.

"We're so sorry," Peter slowly came back into reality when the nurse spoke up again. Her voice was shaking, Peter could tell, as she fought back tears of grief.

He was fighting as well, but he was fighting for something that left him. Something he wanted but could never attain. It hurt to see all that willpower be wasted. It hurt to lose. Peter always lost.

"Mr. Quince, is there anything you want me to do?"

"Yeah," Peter's breath was shaky. "I want to be left alone. _Please_."

"O-Of course. Once again, I'm so _sorry_."

Everything was still and silent. Peter melted into the plastic chair. He wished that it reclined. The ceiling looked so dark yet inviting. He needed something like that, but like always, he wouldn't get it.

Maybe this is what Peter's life is meant to be; it's meant to be one of failure and loss. He lost his family the day he came into existence, he lost his best friend to his own brother, he lost his home to his selfish desires, and now he lost the new family he was going to have, a family of his own. His mothers, fathers, younger brother, wife and even his own child. They all walked out or died on him. They were lost in the blizzard, _his_ blizzard.

Peter failed as a son, he failed as a brother, as a friend, as a husband, and as a father. What was next? Who would he fail and lose next?

It was obvious. _Himself._

"...Mr. Quince?" _No more, please. Let me win for once...please..._ "There's someone you should meet. He's someone you really need to see." _He?_

Maybe, Peter pondered, not everyone was lost in his blizzard after all.

* * *

Devon Randolph Quince came home when the snow was still plentiful. It caked lawns as well as almost every roof in town. He was the same as the falling snowflakes; _silent._ Peter was amazed at how quiet his son was, given how he was nearly two weeks old. Then again, Peter considered, being surrounded by doctors for two straight weeks would keep anyone quiet.

"We're home, son," Peter whispered gently, crouching down to look at his son sleeping in the carrier. He looked so calm, so peaceful, and Peter would have to ask his doctors on how to look the same way. "We're home, Devon, we're both finally home."

Months pass, and time slips through Peter's fingertips like water. He could only watch as Devon grew and grew, and before he knew it, the boy could walk and talk. Things were moving too fast for Peter's liking, but he couldn't stop it, no matter how hard he tried. Devon proved to be too fast for him, so it was down to what Devon could actually say.

 _Mama._

The word was more of a curse than a blessing. She was still missing, and she would never be found again. Her family knew that well; they cut all ties with Peter and Devon the second they heard about what happened. The Quinces were completely unreachable; some things were more important than their own son and grandson, apparently.

Peter turned to Steve, his business partner, but he only offered hollow advice. A kind gesture, but not very effective.

 _You're a father, Peter. A single father. You gotta draw the line between Devon and your job. Manage your time wisely and never let one overshadow the other. Keep it even, fifty-fifty. Make room for a little bit of everything in your life, okay?_

If it were only that easy.

* * *

Devon was about five years old when everything was molded into one big fireball. Its force of impact nearly took Peter away, and yet, it was more about discovery than it was change.

Peter began to notice the supposed fireball forming when he felt something leap onto his bed and crawl up his legs. The small hands were vaguely familiar, as whatever Peter thought it was barely ever held onto his leg before. Then he heard muffled rumbling and saw flashes of white light.

It was monsoon season. That's right.

There was an unspoken conversation between Peter and the mysterious visitor, but drawing back the covers, Peter saw something that was a sight to behold for him.

Devon was curled up against the side of his father's waist. His face was gently buried into Peter's side and one arm laid across half of Peter's stomach, the other arm stretched up towards Peter's shoulder while being pressed into the bed. It seemed that he was fast asleep the second he stopped crawling up his father.

Peter could only relax, he was forced to. He couldn't really fall asleep again, but feeling Devon next to him, holding onto him, was enough. It would always be enough. Then again, nothing good lasted long.

It never dawned on Peter that Devon considered him a safe place, a safe person. Someone to run to if he was sad or scared or confused. Someone who would be there to hold him when there was disaster right outside the window. To Devon, Peter was someone who would say 'I love you' and would provide a tender kiss afterwards. Or, at least that was how Peter viewed it.

Devon found a way out of the blizzard, and Peter hoped that the day his son got lost in the blizzard was a day that would never come.

* * *

Peter needed to wake up, he determined, because there was no way everything could have exploded so suddenly.

It was just an innocent party, a totally _innocent_ business party. Those who worked at the architect firm were invited to the head's house. All the kids were invited as well, and it made Peter happy to see Devon socializing with the kids, and those from his second grade class too, while playing around in the backyard pool.

And then, Peter was whacked in the gut.

There were shouts and hollers towards the body of water, kids rushing out, and then the shriek of his own name dragged him to the sparkling waters. Then he saw a hand, an arm, and a small chest that was dormant.

The next thing Peter knew, he was in a leather-fitted chair in a room that seemed all too familiar. It seemed to be the last room of defense, the whole building was that way really.

 _Hospitals are places people go to die_ , Peter thought, _please don't let him be next._

Doctors came in and out of the room, montaging to Peter as if it was a cruel joke. Prolonging what was meant to happen. After a few hours, Peter could point out the few remaining demons by the hospital bed. He almost laughed with them until one was pulling on the ventilator cord.

 _No. Stop. Don't you dare._

Ignorance, he sighed. They ignored him, they played stupid. The demons laughed and chorused, a claw threatening the clear tube. Peter got to his feet and lost all control of himself. His arms swished left and right, chopping through the monsters in his mind. They fled, Peter could tell, but the one straggler left a pair of fingers, _his own fingers_ , on the tube and began to pull.

"Dad...?"

 _Devon_. Peter's glossy eyes looked down at the boy. His eyes were cold and tired, and he could muster a weak smile on his pale face. Arms encircled his neck, and a hot breath caused goosebumps to explode on Devon's skin. _He's not lost...he's still here. He'll always be here._

"Devon, son, what in the world happened to you?" Peter asked, gently holding his son's hand. A lone thumb ran over the skin smoothly.

"I don't know," Devon spoke softly. He couldn't suck in enough air for a suitable breath. "It...I think someone pulled me under the water. I don't know, Dad, I just...I-"

"It's fine. What's important is that you're alive," Peter cooed, running a hand through his son's brown locks. Devon's blue eyes glowed with happiness, and suddenly the world froze. Peter saw it. Devon. His wife, the mother of his son. She was there. Peter had no idea when she arrived, or why she even came, but he could feel her there. He knew it. His wife... _Devon._

Peter figured his son's name was enough to remember his wife by, but the name wasn't the only thing she was fond of.

She was fond of life and living, and maybe Peter would grow fond of it too.

Now all he needed was something to keep Devon afloat.

* * *

The last time Peter spoke to Titania, she was in love with Oberon. Now, she broke the ice.

Fireflies mostly stayed in the heart of Evermore Woods, right by the gateway to Athenia. The gateway to the past.

Devils were coming to visit, Peter could tell, and it wasn't going to be at all pleasant.

Titania expressed in her message about maintaining a correspondence with Peter, something Oberon wanted. Great. Something else he could use to ruin his name, as if Peter even cared what the Athenians thought of him anymore. It wouldn't change a thing.

It was mind-boggling as to what Titania actually shared; she was the queen of Athenia as well as appointing a fairy, Oswald, as head general of the Athenian army and an elf, Versitude, as the royal advisor. Slumming past the monarchy garbage, something caught Peter's eyes.

A name. _Astral._

If Peter knew any better, he would've thought about what Titania really sent. It was more than an update, it was news. Peter had a _niece_ , he was an _uncle._ Oberon was a father, and it seemed the two were still connected on the celestial plane. Or, it was more like Devon and Astral rather than Peter and Oberon.

It was almost ironic; the past Peter ran from was always on his tail. He just didn't run far enough. Athenia's monarchy was softening and Oberon had a _daughter_.

In his letter, Peter spilled as much as he could. His job. His wife. Devon. Everything. Maybe he could outrun his family, but he couldn't outrun his only real friend. Maybe it wasn't too late to fix everything.

"Dad?" Devon asked in a time of silence. He sat down next to his father as the firefly shot out of the window. "What were you doing?"

"Just...sending a message," Peter sighed, closing the window gently.

"What about?"

"Not sure. I just...sent one, I don't know."

"Do you think I can send one to Morgan?"

"Morgan?" Peter asked with a raised eyebrow. He knew about Morgan the day Devon talked about her on the way home from sixth grade. They knew each other for at least a week, and Peter assumed that a lot was shared in those five days. "Dev, you barely know her. What do you want to tell her?"

"What my day was like," Devon answered. "I didn't see her today, and since you sent a message with a firefly, I want to try."

"Why use a firefly when I could help you write a letter?"

"Morgan would like it. She'll think that the firefly is some kind of fairy or something. She's into fairies and magic and all that."

"...Are you into magic too?" Peter asked slowly. He bit his tongue as Devon pondered his answer.

"Not really. I don't like it at all."

"Oh, I see. May I ask why?"

"I don't know, I just don't. I feel like magic did something wrong to you and me. Whatever it did must be why I hate it so much."

 _It did do something wrong. It always will._ Peter couldn't help himself, really. It was Devon; he'd always cave to him. Soon enough, a second firefly was caught and sent out. Maybe it would make it to Morgan, or maybe it would be lost, Peter didn't care. Devon was happy. That's all that ever mattered to him anymore.

* * *

Autumn. The season of change. The change wasn't necessarily good, but it wasn't bad either. The season would end with winter's beginning, and it always changed. Seasons changed, and Peter knew this. The world changed, and with its change came the change of living beings. It was all a cycle, and it all repeated:

Birth. Growth. Change. Death.

It was funny how the seasons followed so closely to it, and Peter felt like he was the only one who even knew the fact. Well, maybe it wasn't just him.

Taking Astral in was a big leap. It really was the first time he's seen any member of his biological family, nevertheless an Athenian. She proved that she was enough; giddy, talkative, and incredibly curious. Peter could tell the second she said hello to him, while Devon was merely punched in the stomach. It was amusing to Peter; Astral was more like Titania than Oberon. Looks were certainly a factor. _Perfect._

Brendoni was a special case. He ate more than Peter and Devon combined per day, yet kept such a slim figure. Then again, whatever he was doing in Family Studies worked miracles. Peter had no idea of any relatives on Titania's side, so the fact that he was Astral's cousin bewildered him. Peter knew it was Devon and Astral on the plane, but Astral and Brendoni?

When did Titania send a firefly last?

Peter simply figured that both Astral and Brendoni wouldn't cause too much of a problem. However, he had more things to attend to now; he was raising a son, two Athenian natives, and even a research center that had a large motivation behind it. It would put the past away for good. It was a new project, Peter knew, for the firm called for him to build one. They claim it would help nature, and while Peter agreed, he knew it would get rid of the worst aspect of his life. Of himself. It would all work out and no one would even care about what they were doing.

Then...rejection.

It confused Peter; he had all his bases covered. Why would Brian and his two associates who were clearly enchanted with a love spell, something Peter tried to hide his knowledge of, deny his permit? What did he do wrong other than be tardy to his meeting the second time around?

Why was he even confused? Astral showed her dislike of the center, Brendoni and Morgan adding to the uneasiness. If anything, he knew they'd do something to stop him.

Science vs. Nature; the age-old debate of beliefs. That's what they saw. Instead, Peter saw a chance of freedom.

There would've been no more nightmares, no more traumatic episodes, no more reminders of how _awful_ he was. There would've been no more _tragedy._ It would all finally _stop._

Then the world was kind to him. It was rare.

Peter invited Devon to his place of work, clearly bypassing the day of school his son had ahead of him. He wanted to celebrate, but the scenic partying lifestyle wasn't all that interesting. He could hear Steve speaking from personal experience. So Peter celebrated with having Devon add to the plans and get his final confirmation. Sure, he wasn't okay with the building site still being Evermore Woods, but the building made his father happy. If his father was happy, then so was he.

The world then became a cruel mistress, and Oberon ruined Peter's joy. The fireball was exposed. It exploded.

Everything was revealed. Petrithon came out, a secret Peter meant to keep from Devon for the sake of the universe, his universe. His research center being made to destroy Athenia, and just how much of a _horrible_ person he was came straight from Oberon's mouth.

No wonder Astral was so eager to go on her Otherwalk.

Things became confusing for Peter. Astral and Brendoni worked hard to change Peter's mind, and like he said, no walk down memory lane would change his mind. A love spell wouldn't do the trick either. Nothing would work, but the two didn't stop. However, as confusing as it was, it was also depressing.

Devon didn't trust him anymore. His own son, the one person he _loves_ and _protects_ , couldn't trust him.

And that _hurt._

Peter did not want to make it clear that he was hurt, but his pain was expressed through Devon. The boy was upset, which was easy to tell, because not being told about your father's true identity would leave anyone a mess. And Peter wanted to tell Devon everything, he honestly did, but it was too painful to talk about.

He wished he would've said something before, but abuse doesn't go away easily. It had to be left behind for the greater good.

However, _Oberon_ wasn't one to leave anything out.

 _I wasn't meant to be a king, but I was meant to have you, and love you._

Peter was right, he knew he was. Devon knew it too; Peter caught his smile.

 _Why did you leave Athenia?_

Peter had to answer. He knew Devon was expecting one. As much as it killed him to lie, Peter had to screw with the answer, _the truth_. Yes, his wife not being eligible for queen of Athenia was a reason of sorts, but it wasn't the big picture.

 _Did you ever regret it?_

Never. Athenia was place Peter wanted to forget about forever. All the time spent in the Other kingdom was better than the childhood he had in Athenia. It would always be better than a place was more of a hell than a heaven. Peter's Otherwalk showed him a paradise; meeting his soulmate and Devon's existence made it all the more worthwhile. What would he have to regret by choosing to leave his prison?

 _Look, Dev, the world is changing._

Yes it was. Just like the season of autumn.

* * *

Winter was postponed. Peter hoped it was. The world got to use the day Peter worked so hard to prevent.

Maybe that really was the day, or maybe the world was testing him. Screwing with him. _Preparing him._

The building crew was ready. Steve led them to the woods, bulldozers and all. Opening the gates never felt so good before to Peter. The last time he went to the woods, his wife was by his side as he said goodbye to the home he once knew, the prison he was trapped in.

Now, he's getting rid of that prison for good.

Astral's protest proved strong, as there was the longest human chain Peter had ever seen. With locked arms and determined expressions, they stood firm in front of the gateway to Athenia. Peter wasn't crude; he wanted to get them out of harm's way.

He gave Astral her chance to move; she declined. It was her funeral.

 _Wait for me! ...Whoa! Aah! I'm stuck!_

Peter knew that shout. Looking over to the source, he saw a magician's box hobbling in front of the lead bulldozer. Squinting, he could see gray and red arms and a head with a brown tuft. _His_ brown tuft.

 _Devon! DEVON! No, no, no! I'm not losing him. You can't do this to me...please...!_

Astral knew this just as well, rushing to shove Devon out of the way. It wasn't enough. She was caught in the way by a lone tree root. Both her and her cousin were doomed to the gaping mouth of the bulldozer.

 _Stop! Stop, stop! Shut it down!_

And it froze. Everything stopped moving. The chain of people, Astral, Devon, his crew, the bulldozer. Peter's fingers were on the brake, the driver muttering something about "not seeing her".

There would've been two casualties. Two casualties Peter would've caused. Two souls that couldn't be saved.

Yet they were. By the same person who would have been responsible.

Peter had pulled Devon out of the wooden wreckage, trying to catch his breath while trying to figure out why his son would be in a magician's box. Magic. It was doing something wrong.

 _I was so scared._

 _Me too._

It wasn't spoken, but Devon screamed it with his eyes. His eyes glowed blue again. Peter felt her presence. His wife was there, and he could tell that she was proud of him.

 _An old fight's gotten in the way of what's really important...and what's most important, like family._

An old fight. Peter and his past. What's most important, family. _Devon._

Devon was the most important thing to Peter; he wasn't going to let anything take him away.

As everyone cleared out, Titania and Oberon came in. Smiles were on their face when they embraced Astral, and that sense of uneasiness came back to Peter.

 _You made a wise choice, Petrithon._

The uneasiness turned into...nothing. Peter felt nothing. It was strange. Looking at Astral, Titania, and Oberon created nothing. It wasn't apathy, nor was it sympathy or empathy. It was just _emptiness._

"Let's go," Peter spoke softly as he and Devon went back home. His son's arm was around his torso, the other out freely swinging.

Let's go... _Let go._

 _Let go_ , Peter thought, his green eyes gazing at the moon. _Let go, you're here now._

Here. He was _here_. His home was _here_. His family, Devon, was _here._ Everything was here for Peter. The past, he realized, wasn't meant to hold him back and ruin him. It wasn't meant to go after his son or crash into his new life.

It was meant to train him. To build him up. To prepare him. To help him discover his true self.

Peter couldn't see that before, he thought that the world was beating him down. He thought that the universe hated him and anyone connected to him; it would explain how it went after his wife and Devon. But it didn't. It never actually did. It did everything it could to help Peter. To help him accept what happened and that it was all done with good intentions.

His parents wouldn't know it, neither would Oberon and Titania. It would just be him and him alone. And that was okay. Some things were better left unsaid. This is one of them.

"Dad?"

"Devon?" Peter looked from his window to his bed. The boy looked a his father with an exasperated expression on his face. His hair was a mess and his blue eyes were covered in a murky darkness. "Everything okay?"

"Why aren't you...in bed?" Devon asked, yawning. "Aren't you tired?"

"Yeah," Peter smiled as he got into bed next to his son. Devon took the moment to rest his head upon his father's chest, a hand not far away. Peter couldn't help but smile wide; the last time Devon had gone to sleep with him was when the boy was five. The thunderstorm. He remembers it well.

"I love you, Dad," Devon cooed softly before he fell back into a gentle slumber. Peter responded with a kiss to the top of his head before relaxing himself.

His mind was a kaleidoscope. So many thoughts were molding into new ones. Lying in his bed with Devon sleeping in his arms, Peter took the time to think about himself. Who he was.

Petrithon, a troublemaker with a purpose behind what he was accused of. A victim of shortcomings. His family, people who would never really love him. Athenia, a prison where a lone flower bloomed.

The Other Kingdom, a gateway to the future.

Peter Quince, a kind-hearted, intelligent architect with hope in his heart. A husband and father that has a large capacity of love. His wife, a human girl who would always be his better half. Devon, the son who managed to steer clear of his father's blizzard.

He was both. A victim of imprisoning shortcomings that had a large capacity of love and hope in his heart. _That's it_ , Peter realized with a smile. _That's all it should be. That's all it will ever be...all I'll ever be_.

When the morning comes for him, Peter will embrace it with a different attitude. Everything would be different with him, yet nothing would actually change. He'd figure it out the second he woke up, but for now, he was going to keep his arms around Devon and dream. Peter was going to sleep with something, someone, that was his everything. It was enough. To Devon, _he_ was enough. It's all Peter ever really wanted.

 _I love you too, Devon. Thank you for always being here for me._

Thank you indeed.


End file.
